


Prom Night Massacre

by Darkevee1030



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkevee1030/pseuds/Darkevee1030
Summary: he was the outsider, to those living in the small community. but it backfires on them and now he's going to get his revenge.
Kudos: 3





	1. the fall

The apartment was bleak, my hand on the cheap whiskey bottle wrapped in a damped paper bag tighten. Ma was probably doing overtime again, it didn’t bother me though, she gotta pay the rent right? I barely read the familiar note on the fridge as I opened it carelessly, the visible light from it illuminating the small area around me. Leftovers were a staple in this house, no point in cooking every day if only one person was eating right? Shoving the cold pasticho into the microwave, I sat awkwardly at the small wooden table mom got from a garage sale. My fingers ran aimlessly over the polished surface stained from the years, all I could concentrate on, however, was the questions plaguing my mind whenever I lingered in this small ratty apartment. How many times did I catch her crying on this? How many times over dad leaving? How many times over the unfortunate fact the lights were undoubtedly going to be turned off? How many times because the neighbors were yelling at her because of her bastard son? These questions always popped up when the apartment was quiet like this, my mind tends to wander quite a bit.  
I took another swig from the cheap garbage, letting the amber liquid burn my throat. I slammed the drink down as I felt the liquor take it course. Scrubbing away the voices that graze my ears as they yelled at mom; scrubbing the guilt that bubbled when I looked at my hands that were recently cleaned from the blood of the pet I took. It altogether went away as the pleasant feeling of blissful amnesia filled my head; I placed my head against the table as I drifted off. But my eyes quickly opened again when the microwave's annoying beeping started, sighing I got up and went to collect dinner before dropping it and myself down.  
The moment was hopelessly ruined. I didn’t feel like gulping another shot down, so as boredom crept over me both my hands and eyes wandered the table’s polished surface. At that moment I discovered it, even in the darkness of the cramped apartment, I could see the neon paper that broke through the blue of the night. Neon pink to be correct, it stings my eyes, but as I collected it and reviewed it. My first reaction was that I was aloof. I didn’t care about the damn prom happening today, no one was going to be there. No one I cared about anyway. I carelessly flung the paper on the table.  
Slowly I began picking at my food, my eyes and mind trying to consider something else to think about. But as time went by, more and more of the feeling built in me. More and more does the thoughts about that stupid prom echo in my head. The thoughts of people laughing and having fun, I let out a cry of frustration. It’s not like I was even getting past the door to the damn thing anyway. I huffed getting up before stomping towards the sink and almost throwing the plate in. I started heading towards my room, all while the thoughts seemed to chuckle at me.  
It was the same kind of chuckle that I remember from when I was a kid. The similar somewhat chuckles that came from the static on the tv that mom pleads on her life that I would stare fiercely at. And I recognize the same kind of chuckle with the rats, and the dogs, and mostly with the kid when I pushed him down the stairs. I instantly froze where I stood to look down. One hand with the whiskey, the other with the crumpled piece of paper. I remember the sight, the boy just laying there looking at me, I could feel...excitement. No, not because of what happened to the damn kid, but because it caused the thing in my ear to be happy. It told me that what I did was good and how I needed to watch, and I did, watching as blood pooled around the kid’s head and how everyone rushed to help him a few minutes later. The screaming from those that rushed to the scene was blocked by how the look on the kid’s face and how it encouraged me to feel a sense of power. I was woken from this fascinated gaze when my ma was shaking me asking me what happened, repeating those two specific words. And with that same deep, scratchy chuckle, I faked one of my most realistic sad faces. I knowingly lied that I have seen the boy playing near the stairs and how he fell and hit his head. It was frightfully real enough that I almost believed myself.  
Nevertheless, I guess my charm didn’t last long because after that everyone stopped playing with me. Even the adults stopped talking to me, rushing their kids back inside as soon as I came around the corner. What was funnier though was that they thought I never could hear them as they talked. “Ese niño Bastardo está loco!”, “Demonio es más como él!” They were just fortunate I never pushed them down the stairs.  
I got used to that kinda talk quickly though along with the looks I got. In the door frame of my room, I looked at the bottle in my hand and with a snarl on my face, I hurled it across the room, letting the bottle smashed against the wall. My breath was harsh as I could discern their stupid faces emerging from the dark splatter on the dull wall. their grins mocked me and all I could do was crumpled into myself, crouching to pull my knees into my chest. I could feel the tears start to build like always, it was these kinds of moments that I hated the most, the feeling of being weak, cowardly I hated feeling like I could do nothing, especially to those who only talked behind my back. But, before the waterworks could fall this time I could hear it. The voice I remembered echoing in my head, it was smooth but sharp, clear but muffled, trusting but ominous. It whispered into my ear but I couldn’t see where it was coming from. It didn’t want me to be sad; it didn’t want me to feel guilty. It wanted me to get even, it pumped scenario after scenario into my head. All ending with bodies on the floor, I knew I wasn't a saint, not even a long shot. Hell, even I knew I wasn’t getting into heaven no time soon after all the shit I did, but would I be able to take someone’s life? I mean the boy on the stairs lived, for christ sakes I needed to push the kid harder if I wanted to do real damage. I stood up and gulped, and the buzz from the whiskey died down. And as my head got clearer, The closet doors swung open, my eyes looking down at the mess on the floor, but all I could focus was the bottles of chemicals. Jugs of corrosive acids used to properly clean machinery, mostly hydrochloric acid, Ma’s factory weren’t the best in their safety department. They were for a prank I was thinking of doing. It wasn't like the jocks were going to miss their mascot suit anytime soon. My hands were shaky as they let go of the shitty prom letter, a crooked smile appeared on my face, more and more my mind delved into this realm where there were no going back. The image of them all getting what they deserved flashed before me.  
Grabbing the jugs, I haphazardly put them in my backpack, slinging it behind me. It was like a surreal moment during all this, my body wasn’t mine when it left the apartment, and it wasn’t mine when I mounted my bike. But I could enjoy the breeze as I rode down the neighborhood. The school lights were on of course, and the memories that weren't so kind started to flash before my eyes. As you might have noticed, I never really had friends, acquaintances maybe. But they left as promptly as they came, and could you blame me for thinking that I could give my heart to one. Thinking that as I sneaked into the school I bit my lip, it was naive of me, fucker came into my life like any other delinquent. I showed him around, spend my time and money on him, letting him make me laugh, let him think that maybe life wasn't as bad nor empty as I had thought it was. But then one day he ditches this place, with no goodbye, not even a shitty letter. that was the day the guy at the liquor store stop asking me for ID. But what could I have expected? He was like me, a person nobody wanted. so it was easy for him to just go, disappear back into the crowd.  
I made my way towards the boiler room; it was where they got the water supply for the sprinkler system. The school was old, built in the 1910s so instead of having a sprinkler system that was linked to all parts of the school. It merely worked on an outdated system where the water went to one single room at a time. I learned these kinds of things when getting chased, and hiding from teachers and jocks alike for such simple “harmless” pranks.  
Let’s just say detention was my favorite class... It is possible that what caught his eye about me? I stopped only to get that memory to disappear. Carefully I returned to pickpocketing the lock. Once in, I made quick work in draining the tank and retightening the exposed pipes making so none could leak out. I stopped instantly when I heard a voice boom from behind me. Something dark then took over as I cautiously felt my hand tighten its grip around the wench I was holding. “What the hell do you think your doing boy!” The janitor yelled as he came down the stairs, each step lowered me deeper and deeper into the darkness that clouded my mind.  
As soon as I undoubtedly felt a rough and calloused hand placing itself on my shoulder I swung around. With a huff and a grunt, I forcibly struck the man with the heavy tool. The sound of his jaw cracking made me wince. Breathing heavily, I looked at the man now on the floor supporting his chin as blood flooded and spewed from his mouth. The frightened look in his anxious eyes expressed terrible remorse in them, urging me not to finish him off, complete and utter fear. Just like the unfortunate boy. But this time I also saw the man that calls me names whenever I run on his wet floor, only me though, the man who just swept by as the jocks had me on the floor, fist and foot pounding into me. And with a sick smile, I let the used tool in my hand come down on his gaunt face over and over again. With each hit more blood splattered across my face and the already dust-covered wall. With a final huff and a wipe of my chin, I merely looked at the man now with a face nothing more than a bloody pulp.  
The tank now drained and filled I went on with my plan. Utilizing the material in the boiling room: wood planks, nails, a hammer, some sturdy boxes, and trash cans that haven’t been emptied yet. I started barring the doors to the gym both inside and outside, of course, I waited till everyone was inside waiting to see who was crowned king and queen. It genuinely made me sick. Good thing these people haven’t heard of the concept of moderate volume because none of them detected me imprisoning them inside. And it didn’t help them that the bleachers were never tall enough to reach the overhead windows; I learned that when spending all my time under them.  
With an odd smile, I anxiously watched as all the people who laughed at me, who pummeled me, all just living in a single space. Acting as if they somehow haven’t treated one another as crap. As if this special moment was ending all the malice in the world to them. It made me roll my eyes, so I didn’t feel bad knocking out one of the door’s windows. And I didn’t feel bad flicking in the match that I lit, as a kid was bitterly cursing at me desperately trying to open the doors. And I didn’t feel bad as one of the table cloths was set aflame. And I certainly wasn’t sympathetic as everyone was begging piteously me to open the doors. As the fire alarm started to blare out over the terrible music and as they all desperately try to forcefully push their way out. I merely watched in child-like awe as the sprinklers started.  
The sound of screaming and utter panic filled the halls, yet watching this I gnawed down on my lip but as I watched, the look on their faces did something to me. I almost hurt to watch these poor idiots flail around like chickens with their heads cut off. It inevitably caused me to walk closer towards the spree of arms, cutting themselves on the edges of the broken glass. As their owner’s exposed skin and flesh start to bubble and melt exposing their muscle and bone to the burning solution, Was it possible guilt? The genuine sorrow that I was behind all of this? The moral panic of what could inevitably happen to me? But as this kind of feeling swept over me, it left just as quick as it came when the chuckle reappeared. The terrible memories of all of what they did to me played like a lousy movie in my head. I couldn't help but laugh, and it was laughing that filled the dingy halls as soon as the fierce screams and the music quieted down. And I was left on the floor, with tears streaming down my face as blood seeped out of the doorway pooling around me. Not knowing if it was due to the pain in my chest or the excitement of what just went down. But either one, I laid there, my laughter quieting but my tears not stopping. I held out my arms as the vision of spindly spider legs came down slowly from the ceiling.


	2. last bit of empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when the entity feels that you have something to hold you back, it will make sure that nothing can stop you from following its word.

I woke up, covered in dirt and blood, my vision was blurred, and my head was pondering with the beating of an erratic drum. What I just did really happen? I asked myself, my body felt numb. I tried my best to sit up before getting on my feet, and the feeling of dehydration was creeping ever so rapidly in my throat. I cursed myself for getting too hyped up on the euphoria, I should have just left as soon as the match was thrown in. But I couldn't just leave, the back of my head whispered to me, I had to stay and watch. Watch as their faces twist and ache from the pain. As I stood there with a twisted smile I could remember that piece of information, every eyebrow cringe, every O that was formed in the screams of their mouths. I always doubted the idea of a place where good and evil went when death appeared. Looking at the pain expressions that I had caused made me feel so divine… but as this feeling surfaces, I could feel it drained as fast as it flooded.  
It was weird like something tightened in my chest, it stung and twisted, I hated it. And in my mind, the faces of those fuckers who would mock me every day of my academic career. Now were the faces of my mother and grandmother. My eyes snapped close as I fell to the ground onto my knees as I tried to shake away that image, neither my mother nor grandmother would ever do something like that… right? They just wouldn't do that, I tried my best to instant that, that I was just tired, yeah tired is all that it. Until I heard a scream in the distance, and I turned around.  
It was the front of the school, but it was covered in dirt and grime and, there were trash bins of fire and along with the front door being held open with nothing. And as my eyes scanned the thing, a stand with a hook covered in prom decor. I gulped in the air as another scream belched into the dark sky, and while my mind was fighting itself over the feelings that made my stomach turn, I could feel my legs move. Was it curiosity that made me move? Or was it something else, what if someone was hurt? I paused at that thought. What would I care about someone who was hurt? It was in the school, it was probably some idiot who was lucky enough to be in the gym, maybe the damn fool had the gall to snitch on me. At that thought, I paused as the feeling of being watched was crawling on the top layer of skin. I started to look around, and with a second round of looking around, I caught a glimpse of it. The old butcher knife I had used in my made-up experiments when I was younger… it was plunged into the steel door of the locker. The blade itself was dirtied with dirt and grim. I walked up to it, my finger slowly pressed against the cold steel, I could hear it call to me. That it missed me, I could feel the energy it was giving me as I looked at what I have become. My hair, which used to be proper, gelled down, in the conservative look, it was totally out of style I got made fun of for it since it did not fit my personality. But, abuela liked it, did not want to make her upset now, would I? Now was messed up, hair everywhere, there were bags under my eyes, and dirt and sweat covered my skin. I grimaced as the back of my head reminded me that this was not my fault, I looked like this because of them. Another scream shook me out of my stupor, I grabbed the handle of the knife and yanked it out of its holder. Dragging my feet, I continued looking for the loose end I needed to deal with.  
Coming close to where the sound was coming from. At first, I hid on the side of the lockers looking over. The roof was missing from where the other person was lying over, I could not see what was wrong. I put the blade in the back of my pants pocket as I walked up. My eyes watery and red from the sweat that dripped down my face. I had to pretend just, so I could get close and see if this mere pest was going to rat me out, coming close. The person lying on the floor jumped at the sound of me approaching. She whimpered as she held her side red liquid covered her hip and hands. "It's okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, she stood still long enough for me to drop onto my knees in front of her.  
Now with a better look at her, I froze, my stomach hit the floor, and I could start to fall. The woman looked exactly like my mother when she was in school. I remember because every time I came home crying after a rough day of school, she would hold me in her lap and show me pictures of the past and tell me how she dealt with people. It made me feel good that she was such a brave person, but then it would start to go to the pictures of dad. And sometimes I could feel the tears of hers dropping onto my head, and then that feeling washed away as I know that she was still crying because I look like him. And I know that she stays overtime at her work because of me. The one person I had left in the world did not want to be around me. I was brought back from my daydream when I pushed a finger onto her hip, and she gasped out of pain, I pulled back, and said my sorry … but was I remorseful? At that time, I realized that the emotions I was feeling back then were guilt… I felt guilty. My mind was now a battlefield, this new emotion I was feeling wanted to help to keep this person who reminded me of the person who I loved the most in the world. But on the other hand, I had...an urge… to finish her. She didn't even want me, but yet she brought me into this world! Why! She knew I was going to be no good, a monster to society, so why not kill me before I even had the chance. The voice in the back of my head pestered me to do it, take the blade I had, and end her life.  
But then there was laughing: it came from the woman on the ground, the crows that seemed to surround us, and the darkness coming from everywhere were laughing. I could remember who those sounds belong to, it was coming from those assholes. It was them haunting me, hurting me even from the grave. More tears started to fall down my cheeks, I yelled at the woman too. “STOP LAUGHING AT ME!” I yelled at the top of my voice. Then their voices started to build, I looked around me, and everywhere I looked there was laughter. From the walls to the floors, to the echoes in the lockers, the opening in the ceiling, laughter.“Do you think I loved you?" I turned to face the woman, “I should have dropped you after you ruined my life” I shook my head. “Stop it! Stop it! You bitch!” The woman on the floor only laughed, “you have done nothing but bring misery into this world, and I cannot say you weren't the cause of your grandmother’s death…” my eyes grew wide at that moment and I let my hands fall as I could feel the darkness in me finally. And as it did, the voice of the woman changed too, along with her facial feature. It was him, "though I care for you for a minute there, huh?” the face said,“ well not only are you gullible as hell, but you're pathetic as well.” Now he was laughing at me too. I let out a whimper probably for the first time in years as I reached for the knife, and I got onto my feet and walked close towards the thing. They emitted both laughs but now, and as I raised the blade high. I yelled out at them for the last time, "stop laughing at me!” I brought the clever done onto their stomach. Yanking it, and dropping it down again and again on various parts of the body.  
By the time I calmed down, everything was quiet. The person was full of deep cuts, and their stomach was now more chopped meat than human and their face… Now, as the voice calmed, I could figure everything out now, they didn't even look close enough to him, or my mother. I held the random stranger in my lap, allowing the blood to cover my pants legs as I finally sunk deep into the darkness of my mind. My hands slowly petting the hair out of their face, I looked at them with empty eyes. As I did so, I could hear behind me what sounds like multiple people. I could only raise my eyebrows, as the person in my lap started to fade away like embers of a fire. The voice now is nothing more than a soft breeze on my skin. I raised my feet, my pants still covered in blood, I turned my back, I could only smirk when asked who I was and what had happened to me. The cleaver, heavy behind my back, and I had the same immediate thought. As the laughter echoed in my head, they needed to be quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> / Hey guys! I don't remember if I said this or not. but these are no way canon for my oc characters and are just something I thought about writing for a while now. please enjoy! and if you have any questions you can ask me on my twitter account @jesterparty1030./


	3. the making of the monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we are who we are.

It's been a while since I got here, the icy chill of the empty halls is now my new home. The infinite moonlight is now my sunlight. The screams of those who enter my home are now my melodies. I also have been hunting in other dwellings, from cornfields to hospitals, to temples. I might not have been the oldest “thing” here, but I found that I might have been the smartest, I mean, I still have a conscience thought. Unlike some others who thrive on bare instinct alone, also I understand my predicament at the moment. Some others still think they aren't pawns of something greater. But I have realized it the moment it turned me into the thing I am today. The laughing might be a trigger, but any other time I recognize that I am nothing but a mere pawn to a being a lot older than anything else. And that pisses me off the more I think about it, cause then I realize that I have been a pawn to this sick game since I was born. But I can’t do anything now, what happened has happened and now that I think about it. I wouldn’t have changed a thing, I mean how could you change anything when facing off a being more powerful than anything in that reality? Trust me, I have thought about it maybe in another time I could fight off the urges, and I could have been a regular teen, with regular friends, maybe have someone to fool with. But not this one. I had just finished a trial, they didn’t have a chance this time. The girl with the glasses was crying about most of the time I was chasing her, pathetic was the only thing I could think of to describe her. The buff guy who instantly tries to fight me the moment he sees me was laughable, he was the first to be sacrificed to it. Then there was the chubby fuck, he and I share something in common. I can feel it, but anytime I thought about it and what it could be, I get mad. He always knows how to counter my plans. But like always, he fails, and the look on him getting sent to the being above has to be the one out of them to tick me off. And lastly was the jock, he was a slippery one and has been ever since I saw him. He’s something all right, it’s just that I couldn't put a finger on what made that fucker special. But I hate him, I want to torture him until I can’t see him anymore.

After the trial, it placed me back into the gym and the once warmth of the being who was dubbed by the survivors as “the entity" was gone. It was always cold even back in the old reality that the building held no characteristic that can be described as “welcoming.” It was always a place I could do without. As always after coming back from a trial, I was to wait to be called again. I have learned over time here that the entity could only do so many trials at once. Like a queue, when one is done they where to get sent to the back of the line to wait for another turn. This was fine for me, but the only thing that was a problem was that there weren’t that many things to do and being conscience and having no one to take up your time. I hated to admit, but it was lonely. Walking the empty halls, only satisfied some of my cravings for entertainment. It always leads me to drift into the past, and this time I stopped at the permanently unoccupied restrooms. I remembered the first time I looked into one mirror. It infuriated me because it did the one thing that you might have thought I was okay with. But no, looking into the mirror to see the monster I was and still am was what hurt the most. And I can remember the time it forced me to change into what I am now, with greyish-green skin replacing my mid-tone brown skin. From hair stuck in place with gel now, only a few clumps of it remained on top of my head.

My hand reached up to touch the hardened muscle and bone of my lower jaw, to feel the disappearance of the missing skin was different to see it gone. But I stood there looking into the reflection of the mirror. Inside a foul-smelling restroom that was covered in dirt and grime, but the most gruesome thing was the creature looking back at me. And I could see that even if something happened today and the entity allowed me to leave. The evidence of the true Carlos Valdez would be clear without a doubt, and I would be in the same place I was in and the same place I was before coming here. I would be alone. Standing there, I could remember the day I changed.

_I had put the bloodied corpse onto the hook; standing there to hear their cries as soon as the pointed end entered their body. They spat out blood, I winced as some splattered over my face. But I was used to it by now. Long forgotten what time, or what day it was, I had to make them quiet, I had to make them stop laughing at me for a moment. Just long enough for me to think of something, a plan, or a lie, something I was reliant on to get out of here. It was the only thing keeping me from going insane, with a long sigh. I knew there was only one left, I needed to find them, and then the laughing can stop for now. Searching around, I called out to them to show how big they were for hiding while laughing at me. Taunting them to give up their location._

_I was about to give up and move to the next area in my search, but then I heard it, the faint breath coming from the giant, red locker doors. I smirked to myself as I throw open one and the area was filled with the sound of screaming from the person, I lunged at them, gripping their hair and pulling them out. I threw them in the mud and watched as they were cowering away from me, but I never give them the thought that I would give them the time to escape. I took the cleaver and brought it down into the person’s ankle. Only to pull it out with a wet popping sound. Watching the dark red liquid shot from the wound, gushing over their legs and the ground. Their screams and pleas once again filled the surrounding space, but the euphoria only blocked out their cries for mercy. And even if I heard them, in this place there was no mercy to spare. I walked closer to them until I was on top of them, their eyes were filled with sorrow but I didn’t care less. I pull their hair back and let the blade from my weapon glide softly on their skin, and in seconds, a neat trail of ruby came rushing out like a waterfall._

_I stood up straight with a smile on my face as I scooped them up, I don’t know where I got this energy, but as long as it did not allow the laughing to continue on, then I didn’t care how strong I got. Forcing the body on the hook, and once again listening to the scream. Allowed the silence to enter my head. But it wasn’t the laughter that appeared after, nor when I blinked I was in an unfamiliar environment, surrounding me in darkness. And the voice reappeared in my head. “gift" whispered softly in my ears, “accept your gift” I turn around completely to see who was saying this stuff. But there was no one. The words “gift” and “accept your gift” repeatedly over and over in the emptiness of the shadows. I slumped onto the ground as a wave of exhausted covered me, being so tired so fast I couldn't even twitch my fingers let alone stand on my two feet. The voice I once deemed as a friend was now more a bully, poking and teasing me with peace. I did everything this thing wanted from me. I slaughtered those it asked for, I allowed it into my mind, why couldn’t it just leave me alone for a minute? Then from the darkness, spider legs shoot out to wrap around my wrist and ankles, holding me down. Restraining me to the floor, I screamed out for anyone to help me. But the chanting about the "gift" drowned out my voice, for the first time in this place, I could say that I was afraid. Was this gift the sweet relief of death, or what I did to all those people... will happen to me?_

_As I pondered over this, more spider legs came from the shadow and forced their way into my mouth forcing my jaw open. It was so strained that I thought my jaw would rip open, but I didn’t, no but I wish it was. Because, as it opened my mouth glimpses of something glowing was oozing from the sky. And as it flows into my mouth. The burning was unbearable. It scorched my mouth and throat, I could feel it dissolving my stomach and anything else in its way. I screeched for mercy. To make it stop, but it kept on going until the point that it was overflowing, I gag and tense up, feeling my inside disappear and more of the substance. When it stopped, I fell onto the ground, the neon liquid oozing out of my mouth. My reflexes on edge caused me to twitch after some time had passed, I finally got myself up onto my hands and knees. And the instant I did the urge to vomit happened. I puked more than anything. But no matter how much I puked, it felt like it would refill back up. After that, the entity dumped into my home. Where I cried in the corner of the trashed gym._

Soon after that, my hair falls away, and my skin turns tint. the substance burnt holes into my gray jogging pants and burnt away half of my jacket and shirt. It revealed my chest but the burn marks on my throat and chest. Let alone that my jaw too dissolved away, leaving only to reveal raw muscle and bone. I was in near agony from this. But I learned how to cope with this, and soon I learned about the situation at hand. I learned how to hand the gift it gave me, being able to spit up acid balls, but I learned my way around the different realms. And what characteristic my prey would use against me. I learned how to cope, I learned how to live. Looking into the mirror once again. I saw it all just past my eyes, now empty sockets with only neon green from the dubbed acid showing through my irises. The monster looking back was one of grief and pain, and it made me feel shitty to know it was my hand that made this happen. Without hesitating, I punched the mirror the hole being made was right next to the last couple of holes. I walked out of the restroom holding my hand, it didn't hurt or anything like that, or anything it was the feeling I was cradling, my ruined pride. I looked up only to have something caught my eye, but it was interesting a glimpse of something? I didn’t know nor did I care, because as soon as I tried to figure it out. the warmth covered over me again, I sighed as I got mentally prepared, the cleaver materializing straight into my hand. All I could think outside of what to do when I got into the trial was how I envy those without a conscience, they truly were the winning of this messed-up game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /so yeah that the last chapter. lol, just wanted to put out something about my oc. once again not canon so takes this as you will but yeah. catch ya on the flip side lol. /


End file.
